You Are Not Alone
by MrsSmithySmith
Summary: Set in current canon. Just over 4000 words of a Ziva in mourning. The majority of the story is exact to the episode with the odd exception of snippets I added. Tag to 10x12 Shiva. Ziva POV.


***You Are Not Alone* Seriously over used title I know, but I had the majority of this written up the day after Shiva aired, I just finished it today and couldn't come up with a better title.**

**Synopsis: Set in current canon. Set primarily in Ziva David's POV during the mourning period for her father. Just over 4000 words of a Ziva in mourning.  
**

**Pairing: Tony D. & Ziva D.**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

The silence of the synagogue is pleasant but irritating at the same time for Ziva, as she recites the memory of her and her parents and siblings at home sitting down for Shabbat dinner when she was 13. Standing in the large dining area late at night, her father by her side, with Ari, Tali and her mother on the opposite end of the table, smiling at her through the darkness. She remembers lighting the candles as Eli tells her to say the blessing; it's the fondest memory of her family home in her teen years she has before everything went downhill.

She repeats the blessing word for word as she rubs her forehead, picturing the look of pride and joy on her father's face. It's another reminder of everything she's lost.

"Why?" She has so many questions swirling around in her head, and the thoughts make her head ache painfully with 15 years of hurt, of bottled up emotions, and she's about ready to crack. Hell, she's cried for more than just her father in the past 12 hours; her mother, her brother and her sister. Each one of them meant something to her. Family.

"Why should I not be angry?" She clasps her hands together briefly in front of her chest as she takes a deep breath and fights off another memory. "With all that has been taken?" She stops fleetingly to think about getting angry and throwing a few things in here, because God has taken everything from her, her final tie to her homeland was stripped from her less than 24 hours ago, and she knows it's more than unfair, it's cruel.

"Why should I have faith in you?" She keeps thinking that faith is what got her into this mess; losing her family, getting trained to kill. This is karma, Gods way of repaying her for the many lives she took. Faith hasn't treated her very well.

She presses her fingers back against her temple and begins to rub as she stares blankly ahead. "Show me a sign. Show me a sign that I should not lose hope." She closes her eyes and begins to count to five; it's something she used to do as a child with Tali when her younger sister wanted to play the wish game. It's a tradition she has considered carrying through with her own children someday.

The sound of a door clicking behind her shifts her attention, and she waits momentarily before standing from the pew and grabbing her gun. It doesn't get out of her holster before she relaxes and pushes it back in. "Tony."

"You haven't been answering your cell. So I had McGee do that, ping-thing." She should've known that he would eventually track her down; he hadn't seen her since Eli's body was loaded into the ME van by Ducky and Palmer 12 hours ago, and she had run off. But he always finds her, always. "I should've known. Here you are."

Here she is. Changed out of the clothes that were covered in her father's blood yesterday night; exhausted, conflicted, angry, hurt, every draining emotion she can bring to mind. She gets why he's here, he was concerned about her, anyone would be at the moment, but she still feels the need to question him, because she's putting her walls back up, she can't afford to let her defences fail her again. "What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want. Whatever you need." She knows for a fact that the only thing she wants now, is her father. He may not have been the most trustworthy or reliable or honest of parents, but he was her Abba, and she doesn't doubt her love for him. "A friend to talk to. Shoulder to cry on."

She's done more than enough crying, and she's so tired of it, feeling weak and run down and truly beaten with her feelings. She doesn't want to cry anymore. There's one thing that she wants, and it lights a fire in her belly when she thinks about it. "I'm done crying."

He sighs; "Ziva. I am sorry."

"I appreciate that." And she does, she's not lying, she just can't deal with sympathy. "But sympathy is the last thing I want right now."

"Ok then." He starts towards her slowly, and the concern she assumed he had was radiating off of him in waves as he moved closer to her. It's usually something that makes her take a step back, but in light of the circumstances, she feels relief that someone cares about her so much. "Tell me, what can I do? What do you need?"

The one and only thing she needs; "Revenge."

"You sure that's wise?"

She shakes her head, because no, it's not wise, it's not smart, but it's something she can't swallow and forget yet, because her father deserves justice so he can be laid to rest in Israel in peace.

"Why don't I take you back to your place? You can shower and change?"

"What is happening with the case?"

"I can't discuss anything with you, Ziva. It's a secret investigation."

"It is my father!" She feels tears prick the back of her eyes, but she refuses to cry again.

He sighs once more; "You know I would, in a heartbeat. The autopsy is done. Abby is analysing slugs. Now let me take you home."

* * *

She had been arguing with him from Autopsy to his car earlier at the Yard, and the sudden relapse into silence on the drive over was expected, but not accepted. He preferred the arguing because it felt like the 'old them' again. That was much easier to deal with.

When they get up to the apartment, she listens weakly as Tony goes through the motions of explaining the place to her, placing his Glock in a safety box, and she hesitantly walks around his living area until coming to stand under the large TV, surveying the room. It looks peaceful, his place, not warm and fully welcoming a stark contrast to Tony himself, but she's not going to judge.

He asks her to make a list of stuff she wants from her apartment, because it'll be a few days until she can leave his home and go bury her father. She's adamant that she doesn't need to be here for more than the night, because she can take care of herself, she doesn't need protection.

"Well it's not so bad. Best movie collection in town; killer takeout down the street. And you need to talk Ziva... Open up a little."

"Tony, I'm going to bury my father... In Israel. So I won't be here a few days." She's still trying to decide whether seeking revenge is a good thing, and yes, just to take the edge off and feel some justice by murdering the person who killed her father would do just that. She's not sure anymore. Things are very different now to when she first arrived in America 7 years ago; she's not hell bent on that kind of stuff as she used to be; she stills want revenge, but she's aware of the right ways to do that within the law now.

"Well, you can sleep, in my bed. I uh, I've borrowed an inflatable mattress from the woman across the hall who had the- with- never mind."

Why on earth would he get an inflatable mattress, when there is a perfectly decent looking couch in front of her? "What about the couch?"

"Ah, somebody else is sleeping there tonight."

She lifts her gaze when she hears footsteps, and she's completely floored to see Shmeil standing beside her partner. "There's my Ziva."

"Shmeil?" The warmth of her friend brings Ziva great comfort, and she cannot believe that Tony brought him here, for her.

"He was in New York. I thought you might like to see him."

"Thank you Tony." She gave her partner a small smile in return for his gift of bringing Shmeil to her. It was the first genuine smile he had managed to pull out of her since her father's death yesterday to her recollection. Even if she couldn't tell him yet, she did appreciate what he did for her; not just this, but everything he has ever done for her.

* * *

She's constantly drifting in and out of sleep every 10 minutes or so. It's not something she wants, nor accepts. She sees her father's body slumped against the wall in the Director's house, how he falls into her arms and dies quickly. She keeps wishing it was a bad dream, but when she wakes up she realises it's a reality, her harsh and cruel reality.

Each time she closes her eyes and comes close to unconsciousness she tosses in the bed, grunting and wailing quietly. She vaguely hears her name being called in the distance, and she isn't sure if it's part of her nightmare or reality. The voice is soft and is accompanied by a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she's still angry and upset when she wakes; "Stop!" One of the assailant's hands grabs her arm which she clutches in return, whilst the other grips her wrist, preventing her from attack. She blinks slowly and realises it's just Tony; she remembers now, she's at his apartment, in his bed.

"It's ok, just a bad dream."

She pants slowly trying to lower her heart rate and make sense of all this. It's not just a bad dream, she knows that, and she knows that he knows that. Her father is still dead when she wakes up, there's nothing she can do to change that. The only thing she wants to do is being taken from her; Gibbs and Tony stripped her rights from working the case, and are not allowing her to get involved in bringing justice to Eli. It's unfair and she's far from happy about it because she wants revenge. She wants to watch the life drain out of the person who orchestrated her father's death... She wants to be the one that gets to do it.

"No, it's not." She lets go of his arm and lays back down on the bed again, taking a deep breath. She closes her eyes in relief as he covers her hand with both of his. It's comforting even if she knows that he's doing it for him as much as for her. It's very intimate and momentarily she thinks it's nice and it doesn't bother her... But then her Mossad trained mind kicks back in and she pats his arm in apology. "Leave me alone Tony." His grip on her hand loosens immediately and she pulls away, turning to face the glass wardrobe. "I'm fine, really." She closes her eyes because the reflection of his face on the mirror is awful, so pained and hurt.

He leaves a minute later and once she hears the door click shut she opens her eyes, fresh with new tears. She realises her mistake, and she knows that he just wants to be there for her. She's been alone every time a family member or someone close to her has died, so she learned to push everyone away. She wants to call him back so badly, but she can't get his name off the tip of her tongue, so she silently cries herself into another fitful sleep.

* * *

The following morning is long but peaceful; Tony is carefully keeping his distance but his watchful eye is just as strong today as it was the previous few days. Shmeil must've heard what went down last night because his concern is radiating highly off of him; he was concerned before, it just seems much more now for her.

She has been eyeing up Tony's laptop all morning waiting for the perfect opportunity to use it without having to ask him, because she knows that 20 questions will come into play and she's not in the mood for an interrogation.

She does eventually get the opportunity, around 11:30. Tony is having a shower, and Shmeil is making arrangements to go get some lunch for the three of them considering Tony's fridge is apparently always empty. She clicks open the laptop and logs onto her e-mail; she has a few friends back in Israel both Mossad and those outside of her previous line of work that she wants to speak to. Besides she needs to get the news of her father's death to her Aunt Nettie quickly by someone in her homeland she trusts.

She's doing pretty well on her own after Shmeil leaves for the Deli; and she quickly pops open Google just as Tony comes by in a dark robe with a towel around his neck. She rolls her eyes as he travels back into his open living area; "Shmeil gone for lunch?"

She sweeps her fingers quickly across the keyboard as she sends the third e-mail whizzing off. "Yes. He has gone to that Deli down the road."

"When did he leave?" Behind the sounds of the clicks on the keys of the laptop and her constant whirring thoughts she hears him pace from the living area window to the doorway to where she is; she wishes he'd quit it because it's annoying.

"About 10 minutes ago."

"I don't know why I keep checking, it's not like someone is going to abduct Shmeil between here and the corner Deli." She rolls her eyes and reads over the few e-mails she has received, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Solitaire?"

She quickly snaps the computer shut and folds her arms over her chest and briefly shifts her gaze to him over her shoulder to block him out; "None of your business."

Ziva knows that nowadays telling Tony to keep his nose out is pointless; he's always been nosy, but it has gotten to the point now where he refuses to be pushed out, and wants to talk about things and be honest and say how they feel. That's all well and good, and she's glad that she will most likely never have a Rivkin repeat with her partner, but at the moment, opening up is not on the top of her list of priorities, but she spills anyway because he'll get it out of her and she's too tired to fight him.

"Oh I think it is." She tries her hardest to prevent the eye-roll because really, predictable much Tony? He moves to sit down beside her and the way he pulls his chair up close and gets into her personal space as much as he necessarily can, and it does irritate her. He never takes rejection well, so she's not going to bother. "It's my apartment. My computer... Ziva, it's my job to protect you." And that's all very well and good, but she doesn't need to be babied. "Who were you e-mailing?"

"Old friends."

"In Israel?"

"They do not know about my father." Like she'd tell anyone that anyway. She has to act like her father is alive and well as per request of both Tony _and_ Gibbs because it's safer for her. _Yeah right..._

"That's for the best."

It's not for the best, not in her eyes, but she has little to no choice on the matter, whether she likes it or not. She and her father may have had their issues... But she loved him and now she can never let him know that despite whatever he put her through over the years, she was still a Daddy's girl at heart and would give anything to seek his redemption, if only he was breathing... "But apparently, my father's protégé Ilan Bodnar is in Washington, looking for me. Does he know what happened?"

She takes his brief hesitation as an answer she doesn't want. "He does now."

"And you did not think to tell me!?"

"I thought, Ziva. I think a lot of stuff, all the time. I've been thinking how to keep you away from all of this, but clearly that's not working."

"Why must I be kept away? I have known Ilan since we were children. He always fancied himself a son to Eli, a part of my family, which he is not! I am blood! And I am not allowed the same access?"

"What do you want me to say Ziva, the guy's Mossad."

"I was Mossad."

"And now you're the daughter of a dead man. Why don't you let yourself act like one?" Salt rubbed straight into an already fresh and painful wound. _Thanks for that..._

* * *

She's beyond pleased when Tony is ordered into work, to have some peace and quiet. After Schmeil returned with the food and the three ate lunch, Tony left for the Navy Yard and Schmeil went out for a coffee to give her a break, and despite her initial reaction being joy of the peace and quiet, it quickly becomes too much. She decides to grab the clean laundry and starts to sort through them, folding some jeans and dark shirts of Tony's when she receives a text.

Upon seeing Tony's name on the screen is unsettling to her and she can't figure out why. The message is nothing of importance luckily and she breathes out a sigh of relief. He merely wants to check in with her and give her a brief and nothing-there update on the case. At the moment they are no closer to finding out who hired their hitman but they're doing all they can.

She smiles and puts down her phone once more and is just in the middle of folding the final shirt when she hears a beeping from the laptop behind her. Someone is requesting a video chat. She stalks over to the table and is about to hit deny when the picture of Ilan Bodnar coats the screen and she sits down. "Hello Ziva."

"Ilan. I heard you were here. How did you find me?"

"We both learnt things from your father. We are Mossad."

_I was. _"Speak for yourself."

"I need to see you Ziva. Mourn the loss of a great man. I loved him like a father. Mine was always too busy to spend time, but not yours. Never Eli."

She swallows the pained feeling she gets when Ilan decides to force upon her the memory that her father was the least interested in her for the majority of her life, and tries to be nice. "He was um, he was fond of you."

"And of you. So proud. Always boasting about his American daughter." Huh, really? It would've be kind of her father to say he was proud or at least mention the supposed boasting in passing to Vance or Gibbs or someone who could've told her. Eli was never one to boast about family, least of all her. "We should meet. Talk, face to face."

"There are rules. I cannot."

"Your father is dead. You shouldn't bear this alone. Come on, don't make me find you. You know I can and will."

Her gut twists uncomfortably with the notable threat that Bodnar has just less than subtly passed her. If she says no, he will find her anyway. Maybe Tony and Gibbs were right all along... She really is in danger.

* * *

She's busy packing away her stuff into her duffle bag to take home when she gets a phone call. "What is it Tony?"

Instead Gibbs concerned voice sounds through the speaker and Ziva hurries her movements; "Ziva, does the word Virtue mean something to you?"

"Um, of course Gibbs, if you mean by definition."

"No, no more like a name. A family business. Someone's company."

"Ziva, it's the account that paid the hitman."

"Does it mean anything in another language? Farsi maybe?"

"In Farsi the word for Virtue is tecwah; means nothing to me."

"I know it's not Russian, what about Hebrew? Arabic?"

Her gut twists again, and her previous suspicions are more than confirmed in her eyes. "In Hebrew? Yes, in Hebrew the word is Tohar."

"Connection?"

"A man's middle name." A selfish and evil man's middle name...

"Who's?"

"Ilan Bodnar. He's on his way here."

"My apartment?"

She recalls earlier securing her firearm to her waist holster which now rests comfortably awaiting it's next use. "I'm armed."

"Ziva there's a gun taped to the back of my toilet, godfather style, use it." Of course he would reference a movie at a time like this. Once the call ends though, she doesn't hesitate to quickly check to see if he was telling the truth. He was.

* * *

The firearm lays clutched in her right hand as she surveys the streets below her watching out for Bodnar. She drops to her knees and aims her gun at the front door when she hears the lock click. She doesn't think about Gibbs and Tony being on the opposite side of the door until they burst through with their guns drawn. "Oh, you should've knocked."

"I live here."

"Yeah and you almost died here too."

"Where's Bodnar?"

She shakes her head; "He never showed."

"Check with McGee." She watches as her partner pulls out his cell and wanders into his bedroom to make the call, and she shakes her head in confusion when Gibbs grabs her arm softly. "Hey, you alright?"

"I don't know what I am right now. My father trusted Ilan."

"Rule no. 8, never take anything for granted."

* * *

She knows never to take anything for granted, but she did exactly this with her father. Not for one second a few days ago did she think that despite the destruction on the Vance household would Eli die. She stuck to the thoughts of the little girl inside her that believed Daddy would survive because he always does. But he's not invincible. She now knows that.

The whirring sounds of jet engines and the sound of the wind blowing around her is the only sounds she can hear as she clings to the metal fencing watching as Schmeil talks to the men boarding her father on his final flight home.

She remembers telling Tony two days ago that the one thing she wanted more than anything was revenge. She doesn't think that's changed, but it's not at the forefront of her mind anymore. She and Schmeil had a good chat at lunch time today; she needs peace and needs to move forward. He suggested for her to give her father's eulogy at the funeral and take some time out to find some relief and acceptance in her homeland. It'll put her mind at ease. Tony's too.

Schmeil thanks one of the flight crew and stalks toward her, and she moves pass the fencing to meet him in the middle, gathering her hands in his. "They've loaded your father aboard. I told his escorts that he doesn't like peanuts, so they gave him pretzels instead."

She pats his cheek in thanks; "Go with them Schmeil. I'll be there in a moment."

"Take your time. It's a long flight... Besides, I think someone's come to see you off."

_Tony. _"You did not have to come."

"Well you always forget your gum and magazines when you fly, so... They'll find Bodnar Ziva, Mossad's looking, CIA, Navy Intel, Interpol, us. Schmeil's got your back. Schmeil the man of steel... Don't do this."

"I'm going to a funeral, Tony. I'm delivering my father's eulogy."

"How's this for an opening line? 'He did it his way.'"

"My father was not an easy man to understand and yet-"

"Complicated runs in the family." Well yes, it does. But she's the only _complicated _one left.

"Tony I..." She struggles to find the words to thank him for everything he's done for her; not just over the past couple of days, but the last several years. He's been her rock in a hard place, a constant reminder that she should keep fighting, that she should not lose hope.

"What?"

That undoes her, and she launches straight for him, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other just on his waist. She doesn't think she's ever felt so much release and relief in a hug in her entire life. She feels at home, comfortable and safe. "At lo levad." She smiles through her tears and pulls back, slowly running her hand down his shoulder before letting it drop.

"I know."

She's ready to face Israel and put her father to rest now.


End file.
